Who loved me through recovery

An illness does not only affect the person who suffers, but those of family, friends, and community. I can feel when you’re about to come up to me and ask a question, but there is hesitation. The drive on the way to the doctor’s appointment there’s silence, that kind where you want someone to say anything to fill the tension. I know I’m not the only person who has pain during this time. My parents, just like any other parents, want to take away that pain from their child. I know how helpless they feel, when they see me struggle and know that it has to come from within me to make myself better. My friends at events can see me try and be my true self, but knows there’s the battle I’m facing that makes me not me.

During the deep parts of my illness I never thought that I would still have people behind me, supporting me. Putting myself and others through hell and confusion. I don’t even think I would be behind myself supporting me as I got sick. It takes a strong person to love someone who is ill. To stay even when I push and fight; you still stayed. Who are there day and night when I needed someone the most. I am eternally grateful for those who loved me through recovery.

Love, The Whole Version of the Broken One You Loved 

Twenty-three

As I write my last day of being twenty-two I wanted to share that I am no longer in solid recovery. I’m trying to be vulnerable and honest with those who support me and be honest with myself. Since school had started at Elmhurst College things have been very difficult. Change is difficult. Being vulnerable is extremely difficult. Although my last couple of months being twenty-two hasn’t been sunshine and rainbows ( or butterflies), I still made it to twenty-three. I remember when I was nineteen years old being told that I wasn’t going to survive at the rate I was going in my eating disorder it should have been a wake up call, but it wasn’t until my second time in treatment I really thought about my life and how I wanted to live it. In the past I’ve had good doctors and bad doctors. I remember them both. Unfortunately, the bad doctors I remember most, not only because of their actions, but what they said to me when I was younger. But thanks to them it has pushed me to get out of my comfort zone and push me to try my hardest to get to recovery. Despite all of this, I’m standing a little taller, see a little clearer, and growing a little stronger. 

What I learned this past year was that time is precious. To appreciate where you are today and be thankful for that. Life is too short to waste it on hating yourself. I’m learning that I’m given this life only once, to take care of myself and care for my body the way it should be. There is no “perfect” life, because you’re on your own path and to make the most out of it. To appreciate the people in your life: to not push away the people who are trying to help you. Not to think too hard or too much and to follow your gut instincts. Appreciate your family, you’ll never know how much you miss them until it’s too late. You never really know anything at twenty-two so I doubt I’ll know anything at age twenty-three. Comparing yourself to others is a waste of time, especially the life someone portrays on social media is a BIG one. You can’t compare your life with theirs because it’s a waste of energy trying to compare when you can be happy with how you are now. Enjoy the time to yourself, but also make efforts to meet and make new friends. Try and force yourself out of your comfort zone and you’ll never know what your good at or get to experience. I’m starting to not kill myself over school, that a “B” is still a good grade to get. That I’m not dying over studying 24/7, because in the end it’s not worth it if it’s costing you your health. I’m re-learning this every year: everything happens for a reason. That in the end all that matters is my health and overall well being.  I’ve been really trying to understand and accept that concept, because I used to not think that my health mattered until something happened and it really opened my eyes to what could have been. That secrets make you sick. I’m learning to be a voice. I’ve learned that love is necessary. That loneliness is brutal. Finally as I turn twenty-three I’m so thankful to have the people I have in my life. The ones who have pushed me and never gave up on me.

See you later 21, cause I’m feeling 22

Since I’ve been 21 so much has happened this past year. 1 YEAR, 12 MONTHS, 365 DAYS, 8760 HOURS, 525,600 MINUTES, 31,536,000 SECONDS…. I’m still in school going at my community college near home and I’m soon going to graduate with an associate’s in the arts. I’m looking into transferring to Southern Illinois University of Edwardsville for their undergrad in Psychology and then hopefully get into their Sport Psychology Master’s Program. Normally getting an associates takes two years, but for me it’s taken three years because I left for treatment twice. After my second treatment center I honestly thought that I wasn’t going to be motivated to go back to school. Leaving Eastern Illinois and then leaving McHenry County I felt that school wasn’t going to be a part of my life, but I’m glad I made the choice to talk to an advisor about my options in order to get my associates. I was dreading turning 22, because that meant that I wasn’t going to graduate on time like my friends who are at four year universities and I felt that I would be farther in life. Looking back I realize that taking those two semesters off to get the help I need was truly a good thing for me. I had learned so much during my time in treatment about myself and there are still things that I’m learning along the way. Surprisingly 21 was not that bad of a year, tough but still good. It’s been more than a year and a half since my last treatment center and I’m very proud for staying out of treatment this long. I never thought I could do it, but thanks to my parents, family, friends, and treatment team at home I’ve made it. I’m starting to see the other side of things in terms of recovery and the journey it’s led me on. I’m still skeptical about full recovery, but I do see it in others that I’ve met. I hope to be in their shoes one day.

Here are 21 things I learned so far:

• The people you lose remain a part of you
• When in doubt, just take the next right step
• Don’t compare yourself to others
• Life is NOW
• Vulnerability heals
• Pace yourself
• Perspective is a beautiful thing
• Forgiveness is key
• Live with integrity
• Slow down
• Remain open-minded
• Learn to live with uncertainty
• Take time for yourself
• Accept yourself
• Fight for what you care about
• You’ll never have it all figured out
• Faith is a place of mystery
• You must learn to love yourself first before you love someone else
• We need other people to help us along the way
• Accept the things that I cannot change

I’m ambivalent about what’s coming this next chapter in my life, I know that life happens, but it’s up to me on how I respond to it. Here’s to 22

 

Radical acceptance 

During my time in treatment for my eating disorder, I was introduced to a type of therapy known as Dialectical Behavioral Therapy, or DBT. DBT is a type of therapy that centers around the balance of acceptance and change. It can be helpful for those that experience their emotions in an intense way. Throughout this process of behavior modification, DBT aims to help an individual change unhelpful or harmful behaviors, while still choosing to accept themselves and who they are as a person. One of the major concepts taught in DBT is a skill known as radical acceptance. Radical acceptance is meant to help prevent suffering- The idea behind it is that painful events in life are inevitable, but suffering is optional. By refusing to accept our reality when a painful event happens, we cause ourselves further suffering. Just because we choose to accept the reality of the situation does not mean that we like the situation or agree with it. It also doesn’t mean that we have to stay stuck in our current situation, either. We are not choosing to live with it forever- we are simply choosing to accept it as our current circumstances.

When I first heard of radical acceptance, saying that I was highly skeptical of this skill would be the world’s biggest understatement. In fact, I think I actually rolled my eyes at the very idea of accepting anything that I saw as unsatisfactory. Each time going to group for DBT and learning new skills, radical acceptance was very hard for me. However, this is not true. It doesn’t mean that I have to embrace someone who has hurt me or that I have to just “look on the bright side” and find the good in my situation. Even if that reality is difficult and painful, or the complete opposite of what I want, I am merely accepting that it exists and that it is real.

As a perfectionist, I struggle with the idea of accepting anything that I see as less than ideal, or my absolute best. I tend to hold myself to a high standard and feel that I have failed if I do not live up to that particular standard. My initial thoughts after being introduced to this concept ranged from “Why would I accept anything less than perfection?” all the way to “Are these people absolutely out of their minds?!” However, as I began to put some trust in those who were giving me advice and began to open my mind to the idea of radical acceptance.

Radical acceptance is a process. We do not accept something once and then never struggle with negative thoughts or feelings about it again. There may be a situation, object, or relationship in our lives that we must wake up every single day and consciously choose to radically accept. We must remember to be gentle with ourselves during this process. 

Stand by me 

This morning, Facebook decided to remind me of this day three years ago. In the picture I saw some version of myself smiling for the camera – brown eyes, long ombre hair, surrounded with friends. That’s me, right? Technically, yes, but when I look at that picture I didn’t see myself. I see a girl who is drowning in sadness despite the big, toothy smile. I see a hand gripping the railing a little bit too tightly, steadying the girl long enough to pose for a picture. When you are perusing Facebook and you slide your cursor over this picture, yes, my name will show. In some way, I am attached to this girl, but she is not me. I call her Anorexia. I would try, though. I would tell her that she can get better. That I know she reads success stories of individuals who call themselves “recovered”. I know she finds hope in those stories, but truly believes that she is the exception; she will never heal. For a second. Until she realizes she has to go an entire other day living in the exhausting rigidity of her disease.

I would tell her that starving herself will not make the past or the pain go away. But what she is doing is just a bandaid, and it’s not healing any wounds. I would tell her, and this is an important one, that she is not alone. People may hurt her – they may even give up on her – but there are also people who love her. There are people who believe in her and will do anything to help her get better. She just has to believe in herself first. The close relationships I created in treatment I realized used each other to build each other up. I don’t have enough fingers and toes to count on the people who have stood by me through this entire process. The beginning when I first told someone till now. There’s a corky saying, “Everyone comes into your life for a reason; some good and some bad.” It is true, because those who stay make an imprint on those for a lifetime. Being a text away, phone call away, or a flight away gives me comfort. That across the nation I have women who support me and are holding hope for me when I can’t hold hope for myself.

We are not alone. As the classic song says, “when the night has come and the land is dark, and the moon is the only light we’ll see, no I won’t be afraid … just as long as you stand, stand by me”.

It Really Isn’t A Failure

I think I failed. Or I feel like I failed. One of the two. I’m back to square one almost, not completely but pretty much. I’ve never been so frustrated with myself. I’m back in treatment. Self-admitting is not easy and it was the last thing I wanted to bring the new year in. Then I realized how desperately I want to be better. How I want to attend school, get a job, and to eventually get my own place.  To be normal is something we’ve talked about all week at treatment.  You have to go back? I was hard on myself the days building up to my first day. I thought what could I have done differently, why did I let it get back to this point again? I looked at all the negatives in my life at the moment. How much I messed up and caused a fuss again. How I would spend everyday all day in treatment going through the same thing I did 7 months ago. Would it even work this time? I could only hope.My eating disorder has been a big part of my life for years now; to realize it would be gone makes me think I would lose control. Control is what we seek in an eating disorder. But too much control leads to out of control. Not only was I scared but also I was tired of working so hard.

Recovering is a process. A long process that I will probably have to deal with for years to come. I wish that after this second time of treatment that I would be perfectly fine and healthy, but I know I won’t be. That’s where I missed the mark last time. I thought after feeling amazing in treatment and feeling that “high” that I was “cured”, little did I know I would be back so soon. I wish as much as anyone else that this was curable, fixable and had a shot that in 24 hours would make you feel normal again. But it doesn’t work that way. It really doesn’t.

I may still feel like I failed and still feel like I put a lot of people down. I can only imagine my life would be so much different. That’s what I feel most disappointed in. I imagine brighter skies and a bigger smile across my face. To be normal. I don’t know much about it. In my eyes I failed, maybe to others I failed too. Deep down, I know I didn’t fail. Deep down I know I tried it myself and it didn’t work, trial and error. I did it one way and it didn’t work, it is impossible on your own. In a way, it’s my “booster shot” returning back to treatment. Say I failed, but I only see myself saving my life. While I’m back I might as well make the most of each session and continue to learn. I realized that while here I’m always learning.

Treatment is not a bad thing, therapy is not a bad thing, help is not a bad thing. If you need help you shall seek help. I am trying to turn my life around so I have a future without my eating disorder, so it stops taking up my entire day. I didn’t fail, I may have made some mistakes that led me here. But I didn’t fail, and if I have to continue to seek treatment, I didn’t fail either. You are strong. I am strong. I made the decision to continue fighting and that’s the strongest thing I could ever do. Sometimes it’s the only thing you can do, in that moment.

I Would Tell Her..

Dear little one,

You’re probably waking up now with the sun peaking through your curtains. Rubbing your sleepy eyes. Stretching out  your arms and legs by taking up the bed because you can. When it’s time to get dressed, don’t take too long. Find what YOU like, not what your mom likes, or your best friend. Wear what you want, that you feel confident in. When you’re sitting in school during a lesson and you don’t understand, it’s okay to ask for help. Raise your hand, and if other kids laugh, do not feel ashamed. Do not think you are not smart enough, not capable of learning, or a bad student. You are none of those things. Playing out on the playground is meant for running outside and playing hopscotch, not for playing on your cell phones. Use the playground equipment by sliding down the slides, swinging through on the monkey bars laughing and smiling up at the warm sun. If you see a boy or girl by themselves ask if they want to play with you. They might be in your home room class or maybe they won’t; the nice thing to do is always ask, because you don’t know if they were having a bad day or what it’s like at home. When it’s time for the school day to be over, leave not discouraged that you didn’t do well on the science test, but leave with the attitude that you did the best you could, because it’s just one day out of 365 days of the year.

Don’t rush your childhood. It’s fun to imagine what job you would want, having a family, and choosing the car you want to drive. To think of how you want your life to be and the “future” plans. As young as 9 years old, I would think about types of careers I would like to do. Maybe I could be a teacher and teach others how to spell and write, maybe I can help my community and be a police officer, or maybe a cook in my own restaurant. While you have sleepovers with friends talking about how many kids you want and what their names will be.

But for now,  enjoy your birthday parties with family and close friends, get your bike out of the garage and ride over to a friends to play. Spend time with your younger siblings and play at the park. Feel the sun kiss your cheek, let the rain run down your skin, the wind blow through your hair, and snowflakes land on your tongue. Remember that there’s no time to rush. Everything you need to focus on is right in front of you. Be you. Witness all the beauty that surrounds you. Nothing should be hard at this moment in your life.  

Start of Something New

There are many memorable days people remember. 9/11, a marriage anniversary, a birthday, or perhaps a death of a loved one. Every addict remembers their first time entering treatment either in a hospital setting or residential treatment. The day I was admitted to Timberline Knolls was February 6th, 2016. Being honest when I first got to pine lodge I couldn’t process anything, all I knew was that I was at a treatment center. I didn’t look up to see a face or what the lodge looked like. I was so scared being in a different environment. I was sitting on a couch and everything around me was a blurr. I layed in my bed staring outside of my window thinking about the friends I made at Eastern Illinois University. How fast I left without saying goodbye. I vanished. Then there were my hometown friends who got the news and had no idea about my eating disorder.

Sound asleep when suddenly the nurse comes in yelling, “Vitals ladies!!” and slams the door behind her. Well good morning to you too I thought. It was a great start to my first official day. The day felt so fast with meeting the residents, Behavioral Health Specialist (BHS), my therapist, nutritionist, and Eating Disorder Specialist (EDS). Many of the girls were so welcoming to me. I think they could all tell I was confused and scared. I desperately wanted to reach out to my roommate, but I was very closed off. When it came to meals and snacks I felt like a prisoner. Being told to sit and eat. Sitting at the dinner table with 8 to 9 other girls we all had to face that meal. I thought that while in school or with friends and family no one understands what I’m going through. That fear of not being in control, the thoughts of “I’m not _____ enough, and mostly importantly having to break the cycle of the eating disorder. These women I sat with for all three meals, understand what I’m going through. It was the first time I didn’t feel like an outsider. There are other people who deal with mental illnesses not only in eating disorders, but alcoholism, self- harm, substance abuse, etc. I didn’t feel alone. As I got myself ready for bed, one of my roommates turned off the lights and crawled into bed.

Gently I whispered, “Goodnight”.

“Goodnight Rebecca”

I spoke and wasn’t as scared.

The Walls I’ve Built

I once took a personality test called Jung Typology Test and for the most part I have a good sense of myself and who I am. One big distinction was extrovert and introvert. I had extrovert of 40% and 60% introvert. I’ve always been shy and kept to myself even as a child growing up. It was my comfort space, though it worked as a child.. It’s not serving me any good now as an adult. It’s hurting my relations and myself, for being so closed off and not letting people in.

I have walls, lots of them. They keep me safe, but they also keep you safe. It keeps me where I feel comfortable knowing that others are at ease. One of the biggest tensions within my life is wanting to be loved while not wanting anyone to have actually love me and live with the consequences of doing so. So I keep you far. I let you watch from a distance. I word and share things carefully. I hide at my worst and do come out at my best. I pay attention to your emotion cues and your reactions to what I share and decide what to do next. I have walls, big beautiful walls carefully built and placed and while some people have found their way inside of them I will never stop asking the question: Do they want out? How can I not wonder, when my truth is that of half the time I want out.

My biggest fear is that eventually you will see me the way I see myself.

Why I started a blog

A teacher once said, “Anyone can write. It is up to them to put it into a coherent thought and have it written. It can be about anything whether it’s important to the individual or simply just a thought. No one can mess up writing.” I fell in love with writing when I was in middle school creating fiction stories. Being able to have a strong female character faced with a conflict and able to conquer her fears. At some point I thought that possibly I was writing the girl who I wanted to be. To be the one who walks out of the fire and makes it. 

I remember my first therapist asking me to start journaling. It could be about anything, related to my eating disorder or how I reached a Personal Record( PR) in running. At first I didn’t know what to say about my struggle. All I knew at the time was that I wasn’t nourishing my body enough to keep going. That somewhere deep inside of me I wasn’t happy.  I still don’t understand my eating disorder and what purpose it serves. I do know when I write things out it’s easier to reflect what’s in my jumbled head. I’m not a vocal person when it comes to what I need to say or asking for help when I need it most. However, writing is a way I communicate to myself and others in hope to understand how I am truly thinking and feeling. From my experience with family and friends, I know you don’t understand my thinking process and why I am this way. I hope this blog will help you not to just understand, but hear from a person who suffers and support that person.  

I’m not one who will write like I have all the answers to this mental illness. I don’t think anyone does. This blog is about the process of healing myself and to get to a point where I am content with who I am. Even possibly happy with myself. The blog is one of my tools I learned in treatment to keep writing when I cannot find the words to say. I’m nervous, scared, and uncertain what this blog will become, but I do know that I will always keep trying. I will never tell war stories ( specific details on behaviors) , turn this into a negative environment for myself and my readers, and will never say I give up. I’ve witnessed people with addictions who are living a life worth living. There is a way. It’s different for each person to get there though. I am willing to find a life worth living.